articles together. They were all, so far as we could judge, of
unequal values. The stone was considered worthless, except for the
little band of metal with which it was clasped. The brooch was only
about half the weight of the ingot, and it was not counted
precious, because already each of us had three like it, while the
small pile of silver fragments was not worth half the ingot
{i}. I thought I was acting very fairly when I suggested that
Hercus should have what remained, because, I said, if it had not
been for him we would have had nothing at all.

"'Deed you'll do nothing of the kind," objected Kinlay. "What for
should Hercus take all?"

"Well, well," I said, somewhat ruffled, I admit, at Tom's greed,
"you needn't be so sulky. Take you and divide the things. You'll
not do it any fairer."

But Tom saw a way of sharing the things which suited himself, if it
did not quite agree with my own views of fairness. To Willie he
gave the brooch, to Robbie he passed the pile of fragments; and now
he held the two remaining pieces, the ingot of silver and the
little black stone. We awaited with much interest his final
decision. With an unpleasant flash of his dark eyes he cast the
stone to my end of the rude table, and quietly thrust the bar of
silver with his other possessions into his capacious pockets.

I tried hard to check the words that rose to my lips. Throughout
the afternoon I had noticed Tom's pointed objections to many things
I had done or had proposed to do. He had objected to Thora
accompanying us on the sealing expedition. He had disagreed with